


Holding On

by hereforthegay



Category: GLOW (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship, just gay and soft, rated for language and slightly sexual situations, takes place in an alternate season 3, was written before season 3 came out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforthegay/pseuds/hereforthegay
Summary: Debbie's had a rough day. Ruth, surprisingly, makes it better.





	Holding On

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I guess this fandom is kind of coming back to life after s3, so yay! I myself wrote this prior to s3, but it was only after watching all the tense moments between Debbie and Ruth in season 3 that I was able to force myself to edit. Therefore, this fic exists in a now AU version of s3, where the characters have a hit show in Vegas but most dynamics are the same as the end of season 2. I find Debbie's self-destructive workaholic nature fascinating, as is Ruth's bravery despite seeming so fragile.

All Debbie could think about all was that she only had one day to save the show. She had to figure out how to do the move, or else her match, the final match of the night, would fall flat. After hours of trying to make it work, she couldn’t think of anything else. Debbie had to make the show a success. Reggie, who she was fighting for whatever contrived reason Ruth had managed to come up with, didn’t have to worry about the show. She knew how to do the lifting and the throwing. She had spent her life training to be strong. Debbie had barely trained for anything, save those pageants her mother made her do when she was little. All the aerobics classes in the world couldn’t give Debbie the sheer strength she needed to gain the advantage at this point. The only thing left to do was come back tomorrow, spend hours getting thrown around, and hopefully turn the wrestling into muscle memory. Not a great solution, even she would admit. However, Debbie Eagan was anything but a quitter. She would make this work.

Pushed to the point of exhaustion, Debbie’s thoughts go around in a loop. She’s just standing in the shower like she has been for nearly an hour. She stares at the tile wall as if in a trance. She’s not even aware she’s boiling the hell out of her skin. When she’d gotten in the shower, sore and stressed, she had thought, isn’t hot water the best cure? Now, she's still sore and stressed, but thinks of nothing but the ring. There isn’t room in her head for anything else. She’s got to make this move work. There’s no other option. 

Everyone’s gone home. She likely received some worried looks as the stragglers saw her enter the showers, but she likes leaving late. It’s better that way. There’s no one around to bother her. In the silence of the gym, she listens to the mind-numbing white noise of the shower. She’s so focused on mentally picking apart all of her failed attempts of the move, she doesn’t realize it’s been nearly an hour, or that she’s not actually the last one in the gym. 

Someone’s entered the shower stall behind her. Before she has time to really wake up and figure out who is, there’s a hand on her body. Ruth. It has to be. She’s the only one who’d risk getting choked in the shower. Debbie moves her head to look. It’s Ruth. Of course. Because here she was, hoping her night was going to get easier.

“Debbie…” Ruth starts like she’s got something to say, but then she stops. Debbie can feel Ruth’s towel press against her back. Ruth’s arm goes around Debbie’s front, to the faucet.

“This water is scalding. It’s burning, Debbie! Not to mention using up all the hot water.” Debbie hadn’t noticed. She feels a bit embarrassed at being scolded, and for having been so oblivious. The blush probably doesn’t show up, given how pink her skin has become. Little mercies, or something. Ruth turns the knob. Immediately, the water cools to lukewarm. Debbie’s head feels a little clearer. But that means acknowledging that Ruth, an at least semi-naked Ruth in a towel, is pressed up against her. As if they both knew where they stood, and weren’t constantly, even in Vegas, on an emotional see-saw. Ruth doesn’t leave. Debbie can’t think of what to say. She thinks of apologizing, for some reason. Thankfully, Ruth never had a problem with filling a silence.

“Debbie, are you okay? You’ve been in here for like an hour. Is it Sam? Or… Mark?” Ruth takes a half-step back. Debbie feels a twinge of something. Maybe guilt. Ruth doesn’t trust her. That was Debbie’s role, and now it’s not. Debbie has no claim to being the righteous one, not after Ruth’s leg. It’s a power struggle between them as always, but now Debbie never knows who has the power. Not that she’s ever completely known that with Ruth before. Ruth’s waiting for an answer. Debbie’s too tired to go with anything other than the truth.

“There’s this one fucking move. I just can’t get it. And I need to.”

“The throw at the end?” Debbie turns to look at Ruth. She quirks an eyebrow up.

“What? I watch your fights sometimes,” says Ruth, defensively.

“It’s that one, yeah. I hit the ropes wrong, every single time. Don’t have the muscle to push off or something.” Debbie stares at the drain.

“Well, you and Reggie could change the routine.” Ruth means well. Debbie knows she does. Which, somehow, makes the statement more infuriating.

“The one which closes out the show? Change that on the day before?” Debbie’s biting back stronger than she needs to. Ruth sighs.

“No, I just have to push through and figure it out.” Debbie again.

“How bad is it? I mean, we don’t want another bonding experience in a hospital room.”

“I don’t know. I keep getting caught on the rope. Right side, like my ribs. My leotard covers that, so I don’t know.” Debbie hasn’t looked on purpose.

“Oh my god, Debbie.” Ruth’s fingertips are barely grazing Debbie’s side, but Debbie can’t help flinching a little. From the touch or the fact that it’s Ruth doing the touching, she doesn’t know. Debbie looks down at Ruth’s hand resting on her side, right over her ribs. Under Ruth’s hand, she can see the bruises. Already, there’s a larger purple-yellow oval shape made up from several smaller bruises in the shape of ropes. It looks horrific, Debbie thinks. 

“Oh.” Debbie’s voice is smaller than she wants it to be. It kind of ruins her plan to play the injury off as nothing.

“We should get this checked out. You could have broken ribs.”

“I didn’t hear cracking. It looks worse than it is.”

“Sure, okay.” Ruth doesn’t entirely seem like she believes Debbie. Before Debbie can debate that, Ruth takes off her towel. Ruth is naked now. Ruth is fully naked now, and Debbie can feel her. Debbie is dripping hairspray onto Ruth’s thighs. All of Ruth is touching Debbie’s back, save for the hand that’s still on the largest bruise. Ruth’s not pushing herself against Debbie, just lightly pressing her both to touch Debbie’s. Debbie’s brain short circuits. She’s still not all there— half of her is still replaying the ring. Ruth’s reaching around her again. Debbie thinks about the ring. About Reggie, who is decidedly an inappropriate-thoughts-about-Ruth killer. Any other time, she’d be freaked out by Ruth’s behavior, and by her own reaction to the way Ruth’s skin feels against her own. Tonight, though, Debbie doesn’t have the energy. Debbie’s trying to figure out what Ruth’s reaching for, but then she feels it. 

Ruth places the bar of soap on Debbie’s right hip, hesitating to move it, as if asking for permission. Debbie finds herself nodding. The bar of soap is soft but firm, and Ruth’s hand’s gentle movements make Debbie feel light. Ruth moves the soap across Debbie’s back. Her left hand meets Debbie’s as they both reach to move Debbie’s soaked hair over her shoulder. Debbie closes her eyes for a moment, still holding Ruth’s hand. It’s been so long since she held someone’s hand. God, how pathetic, she thinks. Ruth squeezes Debbie’s hand before letting go. She starts massaging Debbie’s shoulder.

“Tense.” Ruth comments. Debbie nods again. Ruth’s thumb digs into a particularly sore muscle and Debbie can’t stop the moan from coming out. She’s sure she’s turned an unfortunate red color, but Ruth just giggles a little, and hums to soothe Debbie. Soap completely covers Debbie and Ruth. The mint green bar is put down, and suddenly both of Ruth’s hands are trailing up and down Debbie’s body. Lathering, rinsing. Both of them healing from the day by getting clean. Something in Debbie breaks down, and she starts to tremble. She leans into Ruth’s arms. All the while, Ruth whispers sweetly to her. 

“You’re alright. It’s okay, you’re done now. Breathe, Debbie.” Ruth holds Debbie, arms wrapped around her, yet she’s still careful of the bruised side. Debbie takes a few deep breaths. Ruth loosens her grip and tucks her chin in between Debbie’s left shoulder and neck.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. We’ll fix the move. I can help you work with Reggie tomorrow. My match isn’t as important.” Debbie wants to say no, thinks seriously about saying no, but she’s nodding her head, yet again.

“Okay,” She tilts her head to rest next Ruth’s. They stand there for a while, holding each other, enjoying the miraculously still warm water on their sore muscles. Neither wants to ruin whatever weird spell they’re under. Time fades away with the rest of the world. Nothing matters, not wrestling, not Mark, not Sam, not even that the wreckage of Debbie-and-Ruth never had anything to do with either man in the end. All that matters is the moment they’re in. The peace feels foreign, but relief and comfort flood Debbie’s body. Is this what relaxing is? She can’t quite remember. All she knows is that she feels, finally, so good. 

Unfortunately, being lost to the world around them means that they don’t notice the door opening.

“Jesus fuck, you two are like a soap writer’s wet dream!” Melrose’s mocking echoes through the locker room. Both Ruth and Debbie whip their heads over to where Melrose and Justine are standing by the door. Melrose looks torn between shock and laughter. Justine’s mouth is flapping, not unlike a fish. Debbie and Ruth try to cover themselves, out of habit more than anything, but it’s fruitless. Melrose has actually started laughing. It’s unclear whether she finds the situation hilarious, or just her own quippy reaction. Debbie turns off the water, and Ruth attempts to cover them both with the one dry towel. It’s only a partial success. Justine has still not made a sound, aside from her initial scream of surprise upon entering. She seems stunned. Debbie, seeing Justine’s wide eyes, becomes acutely aware that she was just naked in front of a 17-year-old girl. 

“Hello,” Debbie speaks, voice cracking from lack of use.

“Debbie. Ruth.” Justine responds, although her eyes are now glued to the floor.

“Hi, Justine!” Ruth’s voice is now that high, jilted way it gets when Ruth’s nervous. Melrose, thankfully, has no patience for the awkward tension. She claps her hands and strolls over to her locker. 

“I’ll just get my compact and you guys can carry on,” she informs them. Ruth shrinks back into Debbie a little as Melrose winks at her. She’s still slightly uncomfortable around some of the other girls, Debbie’s noticed. Melrose picks up her compact and drags Justine out of the locker room. Debbie moves closer to Ruth. For body heat, now that it’s cold. Nothing else. She can hear Melrose and Justine laughing, but she can’t bring herself to care. Ruth steps away, wrapping Debbie in the towel. She leaves the shower and walks over to her locker. Debbie just stands in the shower, unsure of what to do. Ruth’s hurrying to pull her clothes onto her still wet body. She looks up at Debbie, expression shifting from impatience to fondness as she speaks.

“Come on, get dressed. We’re going to In ‘n Out for animal fries and then drinking red wine from the bottle in my room. Out of the shower, Debbie.” Ruth leaves no room for disagreeing. Even as the cold air hits her, Debbie feels a warmth spreading through her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, please consider giving kudos or leaving a comment. I can also be found on tumblr under the same name. Note: I really can't handle the lack of California on this show, despite it being primarily based in LA in the 80s, so I had to add some In n Out. Please ignore the fact that the Las Vegas store opened in '92! Debbie deserves some animal fries, guys!


End file.
